Toujours Exacte
by AmadErik
Summary: Finally I convinced Erik to tell us about his childhood. This is a prequel to Leroux with the story of Erik growing up to be a "self supporting man"
1. A bad boy

_You, my dear, have mentioned several times to me, what if I'd write my life story. It won't, I guess, be a "best seller" as you jokingly remarked, and I most certainly would not want anyone else to read it than you, and, I am surprisingly more open in writing than in speech, so let us give it a try. You want to know me better, I understand. Contrary to your beliefs, I am not going to start from the beginning – my birth. No. I'd rather feel more comfortable telling you about the happiest time of my whole childhood and the story of me becoming a man._

 _Our story starts on the winter of 1842/43. I was 11 years old and I started to live on my own for the second time in my life. The first attempt was a desperate run away from the miserable place of my birth, which other people call "home", at the age of 8, not to cause trouble and misery to my poor unhappy mother, and back then I clearly was unable to support myself without money and being a young child, I know I would not have lasted for long if gypsies did not take me in. Yet I am not going to talk about this right now._

 _Just after I left the gypsy caravan after I successfully saved my life from the gypsies who thought the only suitable solution to stop the epidemic running around in the camp was to eliminate the source – me, the oddity with the scary features that brought bad luck and illness to the camp according to them, as I was the only one to suffer from it without noticeable symptoms, - well, so after this episode of my life I would rather forget, I started wandering on the streets yet again, just as 3 years before._

 _It still wasn't easy, of course, but at least I was able to use my acrobatic skills I learned from the gypsies to be able to perform at their show to entertain people before, so now I used these skills to survive. When I was 8 years old, I sure wasn't able to climb on walls, gutters and wasn't able to jump from tree to tree, like I was at that time. I was light, thanks to my cadaverous form which was present since my infancy, so gutters could easily support my weight. Lock picking was also my forte, and by the time I was 11, no latches or padlocks could restrain me from getting what I needed. I wasn't that helpless child anymore who needed constant support from grown-ups- or so I thought._

 _I considered myself an independent creature of the night who wanted and needed no one. And of course, I was wanted and needed by no one either. An unwanted mistake on Earth who still needs to care for himself, and it is not his fault he doesn't want to die of hunger. Strangely, though I hated myself, and my existence, the natural instinct always defeated self- loathing and my will to die. It would be kind of simple to die of hunger and not to bother mankind with my accursed ugliness, yet, though I sometimes attempted to commit the easiest and quietest suicide of all time, the pain in my stomach and fear of falling asleep forever always made me steal food in the end._

 _Most children are afraid of darkness. I wasn't. I feared the light and people. I usually found a good hiding place for myself for the day, as I was yet small and thin, I could fit at most places where people did not think a person would be able to squeeze himself into, so they did not find me, as they did not think to look for me there. During the day I often slept, ate or studied. My only belonging which I constantly carried with myself was my violin I received at the gypsy camp. If I could find a hiding place which was abandoned, I would practice for hours to entertain myself. Many times I would hide in stables and this was the only time I did not only make mischief. Living with the gypsies I learned how to take care of horses and I loved them very much. Entering a stall to hide with them, and noticing they weren't yet taken care of always made me upset. I bet many people got surprised how on Earth did their horses magically became brushed or their box to be cleaned. This was the only good thing I was capable of, and I liked to do._

 _When night fell and it was already dark I went to get some food, yet sometimes I would steal money, jewelry or even books. At first I read them, then I sold them. Well, selling was not the best way to describe my action, I simply put the book on the counter of a book shop or second- hand bookshop during the night and simply took the amount of money I imagined as the price. Why you ask? Why did I not sell it the honest and acceptable way? My child, who would buy a book, or anything else from a masked, obviously homeless brat? Oh, I know the answer to this question… you… my little naïve…_

 _So, to sum it up, I could at least support myself. I found nothing wrong with that, as I was merely trying to survive, and as God and my earlier mentors gave me talent in getting what I wanted, and I wasn't the only one who lived like this, what should I be ashamed of? No one on Earth would hire a child like me as an aid, no matter what and if I wanted to work fairly, that opportunity wasn't available for me. Wearing my mask, I was just what people assumed of me for the first sight: a bandit. People called me a monster anyway, why to act otherwise? They called me the same even if I just begged, and they would even walk past me, or if they wanted to be mean, kick me, so that method of getting money wasn't an option. Not even begging with violin helped. They simply walked past me because of the mask, I guess. No honorable person covers his face. So I gave up the childish naïve hope of earning money the right way, and I just chose to fill my stomach the only way it was possible for a creature like me. I bet my mother would have sank in shame and then beat me until I bled and wouldn't be able to sit on my rear for weeks, but Mother already knew I was a bad child, without these acts as well. Her memory wasn't making me reconsider my actions. On the contrary. Her hatred towards me just made me sure I was made to be a real monster. If a mother thinks his son will be hung on a nice spring day why to make her disappointed? It goes as it goes!_

 _Back at that time, I rather used pickpocketing if I had to approach people, yet I liked getting into their storerooms and take what I needed more. That way I did not have to interact with them. Sometimes pickpocketing turned to more serious crimes if they caught me and did not wish to give up protecting my prey, and back then, as I was not yet this well- trained, my actions could end two ways. If I was lucky, I got what I wanted and was able to run away. I was a fast runner and good at hiding if they lost my path, they could say an Ave to that said object or money. Yet if my opponent was more experienced, I sometimes ended up beaten, knocked out and left there, ditched in dirt to come to my senses again. Surprisingly I was never arrested back then. If I could run away, that's why, but if I was unsuccessful, I am not sure why they never called the police to jail me. Sometimes they ripped off the mask and ran away in horror either with or without my prey, which was the better option, as even if I was beaten, I still got what I wanted._

 _These small coincidences and inconveniences when they accidentally saw my face taught me a new and more effortless way to receive goods- I jumped in front of them, and asked for money, simply and politely, like a real thief. If I was given any, I thanked them and walked away, but if they wanted to object, which was more common, I'd simply remove my mask and they threw everything they had at me in fright and would run to the opposite direction. Of course, this included stones and shoes being thrown at me as well, but unlike stones, shoes made me a great service. Shoe size did not matter- that's what newspapers or smaller rags are for you see. The rags are even better, as they keep you warm a bit – not like soaked newspapers in wintertime. No need to pity me so much – it is still better than no shoes at all, do you agree? Wandering miles day by day does not do any good to shoes, you see…_

 _This was going on like this in all the winter season. By the end of March, on my foot and with the aid of some carriages I sneaked up on, I reached a small village on the French- German border, in Germany. I did not really know what I wanted to do there – of course save from the activities I would do anyway- but with my gypsy "friends" I got used to wandering, and anyway, it was safer if I did not plan to settle down anywhere for a long time. I "owed" too many people after a time at the same place, and since I had the bad habit to remove my mask, they already knew what I looked like. It was partly good, as they were too much afraid to approach me mostly, but what if fear turns into hatred and violence… and I sometimes feared once they catch me in a crowd, and would definitely kill me in a superstition and revenge-filled outrage._

 _So, I reached this small village. The name is unimportant. I have no one there any longer, and if I told you I bet you would go there to investigate my story- you are a real stalker sometimes, more so than I am!_

 _And you are waiting for me to tell what had happened there?_

 _I think only next time! Ha!_


	2. A friend in need

So, now I continue my story for you, just as you asked. I am sorry I finished it at the most exciting part- it may happen with me sometimes. You know me already. So, I left where I arrived to the village in Germany. What did I do there, you ask? Nothing much at first, just the usual.

Oh, stop being ungrateful. You weren't waiting for nothing. Be patient.

So, my life went on just as before. Until that night in early April. I wished to pickpocket a boy, somewhat older and taller than me, but with my silliness I did not consider it as an obstacle. As I said before, I was a fast runner and I had my face as the best way to scare anyone. Contrary to I chose usually someone weaker than me before, like a woman or a younger kid, I stepped in front of that teen and asked politely for his money.

I thought if it comes to fight I will be still the stronger. I considered myself a grown up man, independent, stronger than anyone. Well, that is where I ruined the plan. The boy, without a word, sent a rather forceful push on my side which caused me to lose my balance and fall against the wall. No, it wasn't too serious, only a bit of painful, but it was enough to make me go crazy with fury and humiliation, even if it was just him and me there, I still wanted to show him I wasn't a snotty brat he can just push to a wall as he pleases. I wanted to show dominance and take everything he had from him, then kick him to the nearest ditch and maybe I'd have spat after him as well, depending on my mood. But of course, it was hostile! Yes, all my actions were at that time. What do you expect from an urchin, I pray?

But my plan backfired, as I jumped at him, not taking it into consideration that if he was able to push me once, he'd be able to push me twice. And more times. That boy was strong like a bull, I bet work on the fields and eating like a horse made him that strong. I was stronger than kids in my age contrary to my skeletal build, but I simply wasn't strong enough to beat up a near adult boy in a great health and workout. I received my earnings and was thrown into a barrel of rainwater, not too gently. Yes, I deserved it, can we move on?

So, I waited until the boy finally got tired of hitting me and left, I climbed out of the barrel. I was wet and all my bones hurt and I lost my mask, but thankfully I found it after. I wasn't sure if the boy saw my face, but if he did, he did not get scared of it. But maybe that is why he turned more violent at one point.

That night I did not want to get anything anymore, though I had no money or food. I just crawled to a doorway while adjusting my mask back on my head and tried to rest some before dawn comes and I will have to search for a better place to hide. I was in pain, wet and humiliated, and yet again, just a child. This was the first time I lost my belief about being able to support myself as a man, and my illusions shattered about me being all grown up. I was only an ugly, scared beaten and unloved child, who turned wild by the lack of love and the need of getting food. Streets turned me even worse than I was before, and I was sick of myself and ashamed in advance, of the person I was going to become. If only I could be a good child someone needs… But I won't be needed and wanted by anyone and I will be turning to a bad man, just as I am a bad boy… I closed my eyes, and for a second I remember I prayed to God not to allow me to be the person I was so much afraid of being- let me be good!

Tiredly, and in pain, I removed my soaked jacket and shoes to let them dry by morning when I need to collect them and walk away from that place. The weather wasn't good and warm enough for sleeping in all soaked clothing, so I was sure I was going to catch a cold as well- which, you know, isn't my favorite of states with all that sneezing… In a bad mood I finally lay down to sleep a bit before starting another day full of cruelty.

You may guess what has happened to my jacket and shoes by the time I finally opened my eyes. You are right, absolutely, they were stolen. It was to be expected, and it is not a sin to steal from a thief, anyway. I guess it was just God's punishment towards me. The soaked newspapers I stuffed the shoes with, were of course, left there for me. I did not mind it too much, I laughed about the fact they left the newspapers there – it was a nice ironical touch, even if it wasn't planned out. Those shoes I had at that point weren't the most comfortable ones I have ever owned anyway. I was better off without them.

There were bigger problems for me than me being barefoot. At first, I was hungry. Usually I tolerated hunger, but the fact I hadn't eaten the day before either made me a bit of less cautious than I was before. Usually I just would have hidden to someplace safer, and wait until the evening to get something to eat, but I was sure I wasn't going to make it that day. I had to eat at least a piece of bread or a little milk, but I needed something. I decided to go out during the day, but since every single bone hurt in my body, it wasn't easy. I hoped at least, that sleeping might help me get back to my normal self, but I was able to walk way slower than usual and running was nearly impossible and even if I'd be able to run, it wouldn't have last long, I knew.

I had to change strategy, as my usual method would not have worked. I'd be caught in seconds if I run into someone and try to pickpocket them at broad daylight on a crowded street. I did not yearn for jail or more beatings at all.

Yet, last night's happenings gave me an idea. The boy threw me into a barrel, and this gave me the idea I hoped to work out for that day. I perfectly fit into a barrel and if I removed the top lid and reached out, I hoped I will be able to grab something out of the passerby's pocket. I perfectly saw the people walking by from the small hole on the side and I was kneeling, ready for action.

After some unsuccessful tries at first, I found out it wasn't enough if I just reach out. I wasn't fast enough to grab something, and I was much restrained by the fact I was quite immobile in the barrel, and people passed me too fast.

I had to make them stop, but not to find out my location. I had a fake coin, which was gotten from the gypsies and I used as a bait if I wanted to distract someone. I rolled the money to the other direction from the barrel, hoping it was going to stop the next passerby and I can finally get something. Thankfully, it was a woman who came, she was heading to the apple stand not far away from my hiding place. She stopped next to my barrel and picked up the coin from the ground, lifting it up.

\- Someone lost this!- She stated, lifting the coin to the air, and this was the point I reached into her basket to find her purse or something to eat.

Suddenly a delicate little hand wrapped around my wrist and I got in panic. I wasn't able to free my hand and my heart sank with fear. How could I be so clumsy? She noticed me…

She turned to face me while still holding my hand, and examined me, hiding in that damned barrel. She asked me to come out and I did so, shaking with fear. She did not say a word, only led me by the wrist, outside of the market. She did not want a scandal, and anyone else to notice me.

At a quieter corner, she examined me more and suddenly asked:

\- Why did you want to do this, little one?

You can imagine, I was speechless. You know exactly how I am if I receive a small bit of compassion or kindness. Looking into her nice brown eyes, I could see she wasn't angry because of the attempt I made- she was worried. No one in my life had called me "little one" before, and I literally could not figure out what to say.

\- Are you hungry? – She went on, not getting angry about I did not say a single word.

\- Yes. – I finally replied faintly.

\- I knew. – She shook her head with a forgiving smile. – Please don't steal. Ask, but don't steal. It is a sin.

\- I know. – I replied, looking at my feet, not daring to look at her, that angel. – Them not give me if I ask. – I added. Yes, I wasn't very good at German yet back then, I turned to be perfect during that time in the country, at that time I made many mistakes while speaking. The woman instantly knew why was that as she asked:

\- Where are you from?

\- Normandy. – I replied. I wasn't yet too cautious when someone asked me about personal information, and that woman was so kind I simply had to answer her.

\- Why did you travel so far away? – She gasped.- Where are your parents?

\- I don't have no parents. – I tried my best to word the sentence and not to start to cry of hunger, tiredness, pain and shame.

She looked at me from head to foot. I was a horrid little sight, even in mask. I was neglected, disheveled, my clothes were dirty and some places torn, my hands and bare feet were dirty and so was my mask. The strange thing was she did not ask about the mask, only, seeing my bruised body where the skin was showing, she asked who had beaten me.

\- I do not know his name. – I replied. – A boy.

\- I can imagine why. – She sighed, and shook her head.

I only nodded, and started crying. I was just a miserable child, caught in mischief, and wasn't sure what was going to happen. I was tired, helpless, and hungry. Very hungry.

\- Do not cry. – She released my wrist and softly went on: - If you stay on the streets, you will be cursed for a life. Do you know this?

I nodded. I could understand the meaning behind her words. Very much so.

\- Do you want to live a normal life? – She asked.

\- I do. – I nodded, trying to dry my eyes without removing the mask.

\- I take you home then. – The woman went on. – You could work for food instead of stealing. My husband is a smith. He is looking for an aid because he is injured. Do you want to work?

I nodded eagerly, as this was something I really wanted to do. I heard many of the boys in my age were working as aid, next to smiths, shoemakers, woodworkers and such and I really wished to learn a proper profession. I could not believe God finally listened to my prayers… maybe I am not that much of a bad boy?

\- Well, at first we go home and you get a bowl of the lunch we have. I hope you are not a picky eater, my husband does not like that.

\- I … will… be thankful… for what I will have to eat. – I stuttered.

\- Oh dear. – She looked at me in pity. – You are so thin.

She, I bet, thought I haven't eaten for weeks, she did not yet know I was just like that by nature. She started walking, and I followed her patch, hoping my life was going to change for the better, and I could not believe my good luck.

Well, as the story just turned to the better, and I know you like happy endings, I finish right here for today. I am going to tell you about my first day at my new home the next time.


	3. Another useless mouth

Now, my dear, you sure thought this story will turn to a sickeningly sweet one, after my wanderings on the streets and finally finding a home for myself. But you know, fairy tales do not really happen in real life, especially not to someone like me. Or at least, not as easily as you'd imagine.

True, I was taken to a new home, yet I had to fight hard to be able to stay there, as, contrary to the woman, as I later found out, her name was Anna Schulz, was a true angel, and the first person ever to care for such a thing like me, but the husband, the smith, Herr Gregor Schulz, was another kind of person. It was way harder to meet his expectations and one could not just count on his pity. He was a though, serious master, and you had to work hard to meet his standards.

What did you say? This sounds like who? Me? Oh, you are right, perfectly right. To tell the truth, I subconsciously started to act like Herr Schulz after a time. You see, he was the man, the first man I could look up on as a father figure and role model. I was a boy after all, a boy always needs a powerful man to copy the behavior of. I had no father, only an emotionally unstable but prussian strict mother in my childhood, and after I was just always in a colony of other people, or alone. Herr Schulz was the first and only example I have ever seen as a head of a family. I am going to talk about this issue later, this time I will tell the story of our first meeting.

By the time we arrived to their home, Herr Schulz was sitting at the table in the kitchen, seemingly in a bad mood. I could instantly see he was truly injured – he had a broken man had a darker complexion, a huge head, all his features were angular, he had a potato nose and immensely large hands, and he was a heavy and tall man. He was hairy, had messy dark hair, dark beard which reminds me rather of the Russians I met later in my life than any German people, and he had the strictest eyes I have ever seen. All his being showed strength and one could see right away he was working hard to earn, and wasn't guided by his emotions. It wasn't often I felt respect towards anyone at that time, starting to be a nasty teen, but Gregor always silenced me later, even by stepping in a room.

At the time I first saw him, I removed the pitiful excuse for a cap I had, to greet him, as Mother had taught me in my early years, but before I could say a single word, he looked at his wife with a questioning and slightly annoyed expression.

-Who is this? – He pointed at me. His voice was deep and strong, had a raspy undertone. Not good for singing, but I did not even imagine someone like him would sing at all.  
I thought you could use him as an aid. – The woman replied softly, but with determination. – Gregor, don't decide too suddenly.  
-Aid? – He snorted, examining me from head to foot. – Where did you get him?  
-I know he is not an ordinary boy, but… you are sick of ordinary boys anyway. – The wife smiled. She was quite witty, always trying to get what she wanted, but pretending it was her husband who came up with the idea. That way Herr Schulz was a bit of persuadable at least.  
-I doubt he will qualify. – He shook his head. – Just look at him. Thin, small and weak. – He groaned, and I could see from his gestures he wasn't too fond of my appearance, without even seeing my face. He was suspiciously examining the mask.  
-At least let me to give him a bowl of soup. – The good woman baulked.  
-Here in my house, only workers do eat. I don't need another useless mouth, like Hans!  
-I am sure this boy won't be like Hans.  
-You said Hans won't be either like Gunter. And Hans was even worse. What's your name? – He suddenly pointed at me again with his sausage finger. – Let's see who I compare to Hans.

I, as you know, did not have any name at that point. I understood what he wanted to know, but I could not give him an answer, as I wasn't named, or called by any name before, and I only realized when I was more than 5 years old that everyone was called somehow. Everyone but me. Sadly, I could not give them a proper name, and I could not come up with any name I wished to be called by, even if I will be allowed to stay, which was very unlikely.

-I am sorry, but I have none any name. – I replied.  
-How come? – The smith looked at me suspiciously.  
-He is an orphan, Papa. – The wife hurried to explain my situation, which was far from a pleasant one. – Maybe they did not name him.  
-Even orphans have a name. I don't believe you weren't called anything before.  
-I was… but I don't want to say that words when lady is here. – I shook my head in shame.

Of course, I was called many things before. Bastard, tyke, devil, whoreson, spawn, thief, and many more names I don't wish to list, and sometimes if I wasn't degraded, they called me boy or "hey you". I decided I was fine with "boy". Mother called me that as well if she wasn't angry with me.

-And why do you speak so strangely? Did you not learn to talk normally?  
-I am not German. I still learn.  
-He came from France. – The sweet woman explained, pointing at me sadly. – See, he had to even leave his homeland, the poor child… so early.  
-I still don't want to believe he has no name. – The smith fumed. – Maybe he HAS a very well – known name which he doesn't want to tell. A famous name you can read on wanted posters!  
-Gregor! – The woman gasped in horror. – He is just a poor young boy…  
-Why is he covering his face then? – He leaned closer. – Remove that mask, boy, or I will trow you out this instant.

-Gregor, for Heaven's sake… maybe he will remove it once he feels more comfortable. – The woman was cracking her fingers nervously.

I anxiously started stuttering, thinking about I had to remove the mask in front of the lady and she will faint… or possibly die by the sight… and the man sure will tell me how frighteningly ugly I am, and going to beat me up and chase me out of the village as well. If I don't die of the beating by his hands, of course. I begged them not to make me remove the mask, and that I had a reason to wear it…

The man looked at me as I was crazy. He slowly rose from his seat and tossed me further by his free hand.

-Until you explain this nonsense, I don't trust you! – He said coldly. – And someone I don't trust has no place at my table.  
-Gregor…- The good mother figure begged softly, but I was grabbed by the collar and tossed outside of the house.

I did not know what to do. I was just a small clueless and frightened child who could not find a solution to the problem of his miserable deformity. I started feeling I will be always chased away from everyone without receiving ONE chance, because of my mask. It was daytime, so I was afraid of crossing the village, so I rather planned to stay near the house and I wanted to leave by nightfall. I was hungry, scared and something new feeling started to take me under its power: my sense of justice was hurt. I have committed nothing wrong against the master of the house and he did not even want to give me a chance! I was sure I was able to do a good job, and I did not receive any opportunity to prove it. Contrary to my skeletal form I was rather strong, as I said, and he just did not bother to find out how strong I might have been as I looked nothing he would have imagined me to.

Do not cry, God, you are crying yet again. You know I hate when you cry and when you pity me. I wasn't to be pitied back then even, as I solved my problem on my own!

Later in the afternoon as I was hiding near the house I accidentally overheard a talk between Gregor and Anna Schulz. They were arguing. Partly about me, but it wasn't my unusual appearance and situation that made them have a debate in the first place.

-I don't understand why you not gave a chance to the boy.  
-I don't want to have an aid. Simply.  
-You don't even had a problem with the boy?  
-He is not the type I could use. You hit one next to him, and he collapses.  
-It is only because he is neglected. He could be strong and healthy if…  
-Look, I am sorry for the thing, but if he have no parents, he should go to an orphanage.  
-Maybe he ran away from one. I heard they have terrible life in those places.  
-My house is not a charity, you see. We don't need a useless mouth. We need money.  
-That is the point. You need an aid because we need the money. Many people go to another smith since you had your accident as you can't work.  
-You say so as if the accident was my fault. – He snapped. – And they should be more patient.  
-Maybe they don't have the time to wait until you get better. You are a master smith, but you are injured and not young any more. Quality is not the only important thing. You work slow nowadays anyway.

-By the time I finally teach the kid my arm heals. – He pointed out. – There is no point to suffer with another brat just because a few weeks of break.

-It can happen you will have some health issues later, and a boy would be much desired to do your job. And… besides that boy would need to learn a proper occupation. At least see what he was capable of… now where are you going…?

-To the tavern where you won't be able to nag me any longer. – The man groaned and left , murmuring some cusswords./p  
p class="MsoNormal"As I saw him going away and disappearing from the lot, I suddenly had an idea.

I will show him what I was capable of.

You guessed right. I took care of the horses in the stable, I brushed all three of them, and cleaned the stable and swept the courtyard at first. I noticed the workshop at the other side of the road, and decided to sweep it as well before I went to sleep in the stable and wait what happens in the morning. It was closed, but I was able to enter due to my lock picking abilities. This was the first time I used that skill for something good. I also noticed the workshop was unorganized. Well, unorganized was actually an understatement. Everything you could imagine was at all places, like an earthquake or some other catastrophe swept through all of it. Nails, tools and horseshoes were thrown everywhere. No wonder the guy works slowly, I would work slowly in this environment also.

Well, you can imagine what I did next. You are right: I spent the night packing everything in the empty boxes and hang the horseshoes on the wall, just as it should be. By morning all the workshop was clean and tidy.

The master surprised me there when he walked inside in the morning, I just finished. At first he gasped, not knowing what on Earth had happened, but looking around, his eyes widened, and he was just wheezing. He walked closer to me slowly and leaned closer.

-You don't give up easily. – He stated.  
-No. – I replied.  
-Were you here all night?  
-Yes, I was.  
-Did you brush my horses or was it my wife?  
-Me was it. – I nodded.  
-And why did you pack everything away?  
-I like no chaos. Your workshop was mess.  
-True. – He nodded shortly.-Why are your eyes yellow?  
-I know not. – I sighed.  
-Are you in some kind of illness?  
-None that I know of.  
-Strange. I never met anyone with yellow eyes. But… looking how he can work… - He wondered to himself- Are you capable of this kind of work often?  
-Yes. I do whatever you tell me do.  
-I see if you qualify… come here, let me see your ear.  
-Ear? – I wondered. – Why?  
-A smith aid has to have the right kind of ears. – He stated. – I hire you if you work this way and your ears are suitable.

He stated he would hire me… I walked closer and though I was scared I allowed him to grab my right ear.

-Comfortable. – He nodded. – Not too small, my hand won't slip off. You are hired.  
-Master… - I stuttered in happiness. – Thank…  
-No. Don't thank me. But remember: once you start misbehaving and get lazy, I kick you out.  
-I understand. – I replied softly.  
-Now go inside and ask for breakfast from my wife. You worked for it.

I bowed and wished to run out of the workshop to the house, but Master called out after me.

-You still don't want to give any name to be called by?  
-I am sorry… they just really called me… boy.  
-Easy name. – He shrugged. – At least I am not going to forget it.

So, that's how it started. Next time I am going to tell you how I started to feel I finally had a home. Until next time, I close my story right here and wish you a good night. Sleep well, my dear and remember I love you much.


End file.
